Queen Of The Seven Isles
by Paper Castles
Summary: Sheltered and shy, Andromeda has been confined to the palace all her life. But when she is sentenced to death for no crime of her own, her rescue comes in the unlikely form of Perseus, an infamous warrior who is not all he appears.
1. I

I

In the royal bedchamber, beneath a cloud of crimson drapes, lay Queen Cassiopeia of Theraklese. She yawned, listless, and languidly adjusted her position amongst the silken pillows. A commanding woman, she possessed a fierce and haunting beauty, the sharp planes of her face highlighted by the jeweled diadem which rested in the ebony waves of her hair. She wore a scarlet silk stola and a draped azure shawl, its surface embroidered in gold-tinted thread.

She reclined further, easing herself backward, and raised pale, kohl-rimmed eyes to the slaves that attended her. There were four, two on each side, their arms proffering platters of fruit and goblets of wine. She beckoned to the youngest, a girl named Ptolema, and plucked at the figs on her plate. In a number of hours, King Cepheus would return, his military duties complete. He would be weary and desirous of her company, his dark eyes intent on her face.

The Queen smiled, enamored of his passion. Cepheus was easily controlled, his need of her eclipsing all else. Like a siren, she had learned to bewitch him, her words shaping the very depths of his mind. It was a surprising weakness, for the hard, battle scarred lines of his form implied strength. It was a truth known only to her that beneath the power of his outward physicality lay a boneless man, duty driven but wavering in will.

Still, she loved him.

Her eyes glowed on the sudden recollection of their betrothal. It had been a hopeful time, not only for the kingdoms they'd united but for the legacy they'd meant to create. Their marriage in those years had been idyllic and filled with dreams. The Queen's eyes dimmed and she sighed, drinking deeply from her goblet. She was impatient for his arrival. In the light and laughter of the feasting hall, all sorrows were soon forgotten.

She closed her eyes, envisioning the moment. As he entered the palace courtyard she would be waiting, aglow in her red stola and framed by the marble pillars which graced the castle doors. Her beauty would enthrall him, as it always did, irrevocably tightening its hold on his heart.

She frowned, suddenly reminded of their daughter. She had deemed Andromeda's attendance to the feast a necessity, for it was imperative that the courtiers in attendance witness the girl's arrival. Still, the girl's presence remained an irritant. She was such a frail child, so pitifully feeble and uncertain.

The Queen smiled, reclining again. Only the best laid plans led to glory. There had been many difficulties in the journey, but those had simply served to convince her that even in darkness, legacies could be rebuilt and faltering hopes restored.

The Queen drained her goblet and glanced impatiently at Ptolema. "Bring me Andromeda," she demanded flatly.

The slave girl bowed and departed.


	2. II

II

In the cool shadows of the library, beneath the flickering light of her candle, Andromeda examined the map she'd unearthed amongst the scrolls.

It was a detailed map, its imagery encompassing coastlines from Olympia to Ephesus, the Aegean Sea stretching like an azure jewel between them. Beneath it lay the Sea of Crete, and within it a multitude of islands, their dispersion like a spray of pebbles across the shore. At the very bottom, to the left of Crete, lay Theraklese. Smaller than the rest but buffered by the mountainous, uninhabited islands of the Isaura to the east and west, it had long evaded the wars of its neighbouring countrymen. It was only the discovery of gold in the Isaura mountains nearest Cydonia that had led to the recent surge in tensions between her father and Demarus, the king of Crete.

Andromeda contemplated the boundary lines marking the Isaura channel, the place her father now fought, on the eastern half of the island. In her years spent combing the walls of the library, the intricacies of foreign diplomacy had always held an inexplicable allure. It was inarguably an alien and ambitious interest, entirely at odds with the passivity which consumed the better part of her days.

This was, perhaps, the key to its appeal—the ability to build wealth via trade routes and international alliance, the governmental strategics inherent to the safe and prosperous reign of an island. It was an unending process of decisions, of choices grounded in both authority and personal reflection. It appeared an exhilarating power dependent on a certain sharpness of mind—a reality far removed from the mundanity of ordinary, feminine existence.

Andromeda flushed, dismayed by the boldness of her own thoughts. She had allowed herself the pleasure of gaining knowledge through her readings with the determined understanding that she meant nothing by it—for it represented only the simple ponderings of a curious mind. That her inquisivity had surpassed the teachings of her tutor, prying further into subjects they had never discussed carried a certain degree of shame. Her education in the arts of music, poetry, and theater had been sufficient. To long for a depth of knowledge beyond the pretty verses of Aeschlylus was an arrogance she had long fought to repress.

She glanced upward, gazing longingly at the muses who danced within the ivory keystone of the doorway. Did the women not wonder what lay outside the realm of their singular talents? Did Calliope with her writing tablet never inquire as to the interests of Terpsichore and her lyre?

Andromeda sighed. In her mother's eyes, the quest for knowledge outside the allotment provided would always prove her greatest transgression.

* * *

It was asleep and curled beside a sheaf of scrolls that Ptolema discovered her. The slave girl paused, silently observing the young woman who slumbered before her. Andromeda was a slender framed girl who'd inherited little of the striking countenance or imperial bearing which made up her mother's beauty. Her features were soft and suspended in girlhood, their delicacy devoid of the beguilement the Queen so readily emanated.

It was a pity, thought Ptolema, that the girl was held in such contempt. There had not been a time when the Queen's utterance of her daughter's name had not ended in a snide note of displeasure. In the whisperings amongst the other slaves, there had been tales of a dedication ritual—to the temple perhaps, as a priestess. There was little more explanation as to why the young princess had been kept so sequestered. Unless, of course, the more lurid of the tales proved true.

Ptolema stepped forward and had only just reached out to tap the young girls shoulder when Andromeda's eyes flew open of their own accord. Ptolema paused, startled by the intensity of the gaze now thrust upon her.

"The Queen requests your presence."

Andromeda's defensive bearing fell instantly, overtaken by a look of sudden anxiety.

"Is she displeased?" Her voice wavered.

Ptolema shifted uncomfortably. "She wishes to see you," she answered.

Andromeda nodded, her expression shuttered. They traveled the distance to the royal bedchamber in silence, Ptolema ushering her through the door. The Queen examined them intently as they entered, her pale eyes drifting up and down the length of her daughter's form.

"Where was it that Ptolema found you?" She demanded.

"I was not aware I was needed," Andromeda replied softly.

The Queen made a noise of impatience. "There are preparations in place for your father's return this evening and I have arranged a procession to greet him. I will be the first and I wish you to be the second. You will join me at his reception."

Andromeda glanced upwards, startled. Her exclusion from public receptions had been one of several years. She would not have dared hope she might see him the day of his arrival nor had she been aware he was to return so soon.

"You are to veil your hair and remain at my side. When I dismiss you, you are to leave immediately and without complaint."

Andromeda nodded meekly.

The Queen inclined her head towards Ptolema, signalling that she might begin. Andromeda walked dazedly to the vanity chair as Ptolema fetched the materials to dress her hair. It seemed foolish to think that the branch her mother had extended in allowing her to attend the reception might be an act of worth, but Andromeda could scarcely repress the hope which swelled because of it.

She watched silently as Ptolema arranged her hair, the wheat coloured strands woven into a coronet and secured with a silver comb. The veil was a long square of linen held in place by a narrow circlet. Beneath it, her braids were obscured, only the white oval of her face revealed. Andromeda glanced downwards at the pale hands which twisted anxiously within her lap. When Ptolema had finished, she rose, approaching the attendants busied in the dressing of the Queen. She was resplendent, as Andromeda had known she would be, her lithe figure encased in the finest white silk. A gossamer shawl enveloped one shoulder, its elegant draping enfolded in the gold plated belt at her waist. Amethyst earrings glinted beneath the waves of her hair, a diadem of emerald and chalcedony resting on her head.

Her mother made a short motion with her hand, and the attendants parted. She leaned forward, pulling the cloth of Andromeda's white veil more securely over her shoulder.

"My pendant...it pleases you?"

Andromeda flushed, unaware her eyes had ever lingered long enough to expose her longing.

"Yes," she replied simply.

"It is a very rare stone," the Queen answered.

Andromeda nodded mutely.

"Do you wish to try it?"

Andromeda's pulse quickened, immediately aware of the taunt within her mother's expression. She shook her head.

"Are you certain?" The Queen reached upwards to undo the clasp. When she had pulled it from her throat, she extended the chain, its pendant swinging. Andromeda hesitated, then put out her hand. Immediately, her mother snatched it back.

"Have I taught you nothing? Only a fool would accept without question." The Queen adjusted her gown, pulling the shawl higher about her shoulders. She examined her daughter shrewdly for a moment, then laughed.

"Let us go."

Andromeda nodded, her cheeks burning, and followed her from the room.


	3. III

III

* * *

In the two days that had passed since the King's return, Andromeda had not slept once. Instead she paced, caught in a cycle of increasing exhaustion but unable to bow to its weight. The acts of her parents had pierced her, pitching her headlong into the blackest abyss. Inwardly, she was aware she had been standing on its precipice for quite some time—it had only been a matter of the push. Now she had fallen and the sensation was sickening.

She turned in a half circle, her mind whirling as it dazedly examined the moonlit patterns streaked across the marble floor. Outside the air was cool, its gentle breeze rustling the loose waves of her hair. She drew nearer to the window, bitterly wondering what things that breeze had touched. The shores of a foreign kingdom? The hull of a boat cresting the waves? Or perhaps simply the silken petals of a flower not quite in bloom?

Her eyes burned, and she stared angrily at the vast landscape before her. What did it matter? They were things she would never know. Like the night, she would remain cloaked in darkness, hidden within the deepest recesses of the palace. She would age here, her youth falling away like the petals of the unseen flower. Then she would die, her name lost amongst the dusty tomes stacked within her father's study.

Andromeda's thoughts repeated this bleak narrative, growing ever more desolate until she felt herself so wretched and worthless she could do nothing but cry. When the tears too had ceased, she sat down in a chair by the window and busied her hands with the needle lace Adelpha had once taught her. It was long, tedious work, and a welcome respite from the cloud of her grief. She closed her eyes, remembering with fondness the gentle assurances Adelpha had so easily given. Her heart ached for want of those words now, its walls an empty husk. She had wept herself dry, and yet her anger remained fresh. She could feel it pitting her, gouging holes in the tentative dreams she had so carefully built.

Ptolema found her in the chair some time later, still stooped over the embroidery. The slave girl examined Andromeda's red eyes and bleary face with pity. Then she lay one hand softly on her shoulder. When the princess looked upwards, Ptolema removed the lace gently from the stiff confines of her fingers and placed it on the table.

"Your highness..." she began.

"Ptolema!" It was the Queen. She strode angrily into the chamber, her skirts billowing with the movement, and stopped before the dejected figure of her daughter.

"Do you maintain so little regard for my authority that you openly disobey my requests?" Cassiopeia's eyes flashed, and she slapped Ptolema sharply across the cheek. Andromeda gasped as the slave girl cowered in response.

"She was to have dressed your hair an hour ago," the Queen said irritably. "Now there is no time." She made a brief motion with her hand. "Leave us," she snapped to Ptolema. The girl bowed and rushed immediately from the room.

"Stand Andromeda," the Queen demanded. Andromeda winced as her mother grabbed a fistful of her hair, hurriedly scraping it backward with the sharp prongs of her silver comb. "It will do," the Queen said, surveying her work. "Your dishevelment is certainly no surprise."

She cast a brief, scrutinizing glance across her daughters swollen lids and Andromeda wiped at them self-consciously. "Wash yourself," the Queen ordered. "Your cheeks are ruddier than a field peasant. I am going to receive him now. I expect you to present yourself decently when we arrive."

"Receive him?" Andromeda replied, puzzled by the formality. "Does father wish to see me?" She blushed at the hope which infiltrated her words.

"Why would he wish to see you?" The Queen demanded caustically.

Andromeda watched her mother disappear through the door. Any sense of foreboding she might normally have harbored had been dulled by the state of her exhaustion. She went listlessly about the activity of dressing herself in a day gown, then returned to her seat at the window. Her head ached where the comb teeth rested too tightly against her skull but she found herself too weary to adjust its position.

Her mind wandered as she waited. She was pulled from her reverie by the sound of distant thunder, and glanced curiously out the window. It was not the time for seasonal rains, yet the sky glowed blue-gray, the heavens thick with clustered clouds. She watched the downpour travel in a dark haze across the horizon until voices in the corridor alerted her to her mother's return. The Queen entered first, followed by a man she had never seen.

"Our daughter, Andromeda," the Queen introduced, directing his attention toward her. Immediately, Andromeda felt the heat of his eyes on her skin. They were green and set within a deeply olive face.

"She has grown," he observed, his tone cordial.

The Queen smiled. "She has also reached her menses," she added.

Andromeda's cheeks flared, shocked at her mother's boldness. What did she mean by sharing her daughter's entry to womanhood? Surely this man was already in possession of a wife—he was, by her estimate, more than forty years old.

"It would be an offer among many," the man said after a brief silence.

"And the first acceptance," the Queen finished. The man's eyes widened as Andromeda stiffened. "Mother!" The word tore from her throat in horror.

Cassiopeia's eyes narrowed. "I must warn you, she is willful."

The man laughed, a high, keening sound. "Then I will teach her _my_ will."

Andromeda trembled. "I am Phineas," the man said, addressing her directly. He bowed, and the act was somehow both gracious and patronizing.

"Andromeda?" The Queen asked. "Do you not remember Phineas?"

Andromeda stared fearfully at the tall, sinewy man who stood before her. She could not recall his face from anywhere, nor would she wish to.

"She was but a child then," Phineas chuckled, and there was a warmth to his tone which struck her as improper.

"And already troublesome," the Queen replied. "Andromeda! You have been bred better than to stand there sullen like a block of stone. Come forward. Let him see you."

Andromeda's skin prickled as her feet moved unwillingly in his direction. Phineas's eyes appeared to sear her as their proximity increased, his appraisal blatant and unabashed.

"She is very slight," he commented, "though taller than I remember."

"You may fatten her," the Queen replied, "be it through pregnancy or drink. She is sorely in need of it."

Andromeda gave her mother a stricken look, and even Phineas had the grace to look unsettled at her mother's unseemly word choice.

"There will be no need of that," he answered brusquely. "She is lovely." He gave a wide, languid smile.

"And like all lovely things, her season will pass," the Queen answered. "Thus it is preferable to act swiftly. Have you decided?" Her tone softened and became playful. "I warn you, I am not to be asked twice."

Phineas cast Andromeda a long, strangely contemplative glance. Then he nodded.

In the recesses of her mind, Andromeda felt the abyss widen. She was falling ever deeper, and still so bone-weary she had experienced the duration of their interaction through the dull roar which permeated her head. Now she struggled to breathe, her horror mixed with the crushing weight of her exhaustion.

"She has her father's eyes," Phineas commented.

"Perhaps," her mother replied. "Though you carry the stronger resemblance."

Phineas shrugged. "Our mother never saw much to compare."

The Queen laughed. "As brothers, you are identifiable entirely by the expanse of your brow. Never was so imperious a forehead made to walk this earth."

Phineas smiled as Andromeda stiffened.

 _Brothers?_

The chamber door flew open without warning, and a red-faced slave stood panting on the threshhold.

"What is it?" Her mother snapped, whirling toward him.

"Your majesty, the King requests your immediate presence."

The Queen strode purposefully toward the entrance and then paused, a tight smile tracing her features. "Andromeda, I leave you to the acquaintance of your betrothed."


End file.
